The Chord to my Heart

9: Come Fly With Me

            He set the tray down before taking the seat across from me, a huge smile on his face. “They look good, huh?” he asked, pointing at the brownies.

             “Yeah, but aren’t the wine glasses a bit much?” I asked, causing him to chuckle. 

            “Of course they are. But that’s just how they do things here at Paradise,” he said, shrugging. I reached for my brownie and took a bite, Mase waiting to see my reaction.

             “These are amazing. How’d you find out about this place?” I asked, savoring the rich chocolate taste. He smiled before grabbing for his own brownie, taking a huge bite.   

            In record timing, Mase’s plate was empty, apart from the few crumbs left over, as he downed the glass of milk. He proceeded to pick up every last crumb with his finger tip, while I worked on finishing mine. 

            “My mom used to bring us here all the time, and have us sit at this table while she ordered us brownies and milk,” he said, his voice low. A certain sadness crept back into his eyes, the bright look I’d seen there before completely burnt out.

             “Us?” I asked, leaning forward. 

            He brought his gaze up to meet mine. “My little sister and me,” he said.

             I watched as the pain cut through his eyes, rippling across his face. In that moment, he looked utterly broken, but there wasn’t anything I could do to help him. Because I was still on my hands and knees, picking up my scattered pieces that fell too far from my reach.

            I longed to know where his mother and little sister were. And why he was staying with my Dad and Ruth, instead of them. But I wouldn’t ask him to tell me, not when I couldn’t do the same thing in return. 

            “So it was nice of you to bring me here,” I said, giving him a small smile. It’s funny how when you see another person in pain, you can easily forget your own.

             “I’ve missed coming out here, but I never felt like doing it alone. Thanks for the company,” he said, recovering from his previous thoughts. And almost looking thankful that I didn’t ask more about his mother or sister. 

            “I just wish I knew about this place sooner. I used to live on Mockingbird Lane and drove by this place at least twice a day. Never thought to stop and try it though,” I said. 

            “Really? So you went to Auburn High then?” he asked. 

And that’s how we spent the next twenty minutes at Paradise, sitting in those uncomfortable metal chairs. We talked, conveniently skipping around the things that hurt too much to mention. Mase ended up buying another brownie which I gladly split with him. His eyes were shining again, until I brought up our Art project.      

“We’ve been ignoring the one thing we came here to talk about,” I said, still smiling at Mase’s recent confession of crying every time he watches Mufasa die in The Lion King.

 “What did we come here to talk about? I just wanted an excuse to eat a fudge brownie,” Mase said with a shrug. I totally believed that. 

            “Of course you did. I’m talking about the Art project,” I said, watching the immediate change in his expression. He sat up a little straighter, running a hand through his hair. 

            “Oh, yeah. Okay, well, you go first then,” he said.

             I nodded. “I mostly listen to music when I’m running. And running makes me feel relieved. So, I guess when I think of music, I think relief. Like, my load getting lighter, you know?” I said, slightly blushing at my lengthy explanation. Did it even make sense?

             “Yeah, I know exactly what you mean,” he said, his gaze stuck on the table between us.

             “What about you? How does music make you feel?” I asked, wishing I knew what was running through his mind right now. And why he looked so uncomfortable when he first read the tiny word on the slither of paper in Art class. 

             He placed his forearms on the table, leaning forward towards me. His grey eyes found mine as he let out a breath, his mouth turning down at the edges. 

            “Guilt,” he said, his voice a soft whisper. “When I think of music, I only feel guilt.”

Author's Note: Here's chapter 9:] Let me know what you think of Mase and his bike. ;] Please vote if you liked it! And there's a picture of little Gabe on the side. Cute kid, right? :] ALSO, my twin did a cover of Taylor Swift's 'Eyes Open' so you should check it out. Link is also to the right! >>>> (In the info tab if you're using the app.) Thanks for the reads/comments/votes. You guys rock<3 -Shahira